


Genius Shuffle

by AnonEhouse



Series: Starvation Sleep-Deprivation Stories [12]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Universe swapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bifrost gets confused between Tony and Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genius Shuffle

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Watson looked up at the particularly loud thump from above, accompanied by a noxious smell that didn't match anything in his pharmacopoeia. He thought about it for a moment, then he sighed and folded his newspaper. "Come, Gladstone," he said as he made his way up from the sitting room to Holmes' sanctum, which really ought to be a sanatorium, most days. The bulldog wheezed his way faithfully up in Watson's footsteps and then plopped down on the sadly abused Persian carpet once they navigated past Holmes' latest experiments.

Holmes was wearing more outlandish clothing than usual, not that Watson could see much of it, because he had somehow managed to get tangled up in an overturned chair, with his legs above his head. As Watson approached, the smell of whiskey, probably a very expensive brand judging by how much it smelled like an Irish bog, curled around his nostrils. "Taking up a new vice, I see, Holmes," Watson said as he tugged Holmes' legs free. 

"Between two evils, I generally like to pick the one I never tried before," Holmes replied groggily.

"And your American accent is atrocious." Watson pulled once more to unfold Holmes. "For heaven's sake that beard is the most ridiculous disguise yet." He yanked on it. It didn't come off. There was no spirit gum.

Holmes yelped and his eyes widened. "Hey! That's my signature!"

Watson sat back on his heels, startled. "Holmes. Not even you could grow that monstrosity in an hour."

"Why do you keep calling me Holmes?" Holmes got to his feet, waveringly, and burped a peaty whiskey belch. "Ooooh, nice doggie." He went over to Gladstone and picked him up. "Who's an lovely, uggly wuggly, yes, who is, you are, you are."

"Don't kill the dog again," Watson said helplessly, seizing the one point of familiarity in this madness.

Holmes clutched Gladstone tighter. Gladstone rolled a long-suffering eye and wheezed. "NEVER! He's a good doggie!" And then Holmes sat down on his ass. "Ow. Do we have any doughnuts? I would really like a doughnut." He looked up at Watson with huge, puppy dog eyes.

Watson decided to ignore this. At least sitting on the floor with Gladstone on his lap, the madman was unlikely to set the house on fire. He went over to the overturned chair, and studied the elaborate pattern of broken interwoven curves burnt into the carpet around it. He looked back at the man petting Gladstone. "You're not Sherlock Holmes, are you?"

"No? No. I'm Tony Stark." And he pouted, which was something he had in common with Holmes. "Everyone knows me."

"I think," Watson said seriously, "we have a bit of a problem with reality here. More so than usual."

 

Steve burst into Tony's garage workshop, wearing his pajama trousers, but with his shield in hand. He waved his hand to clear the smell of burnt chemicals and singed electronics. "Tony! Are you all right?" The rest of the Avengers were only a few steps behind. As the smoke cleared, they saw Tony lying on a mechanics' creeper on the floor, head and shoulders under his all electric Tesla. 

"This is very interesting!" Tony said, in a British accent. "Remarkable!" Natasha ran up, grabbed him by the ankles, tugging him out. He was wearing filthy Victorian clothes, and his facial hair could only be described as randomly scruffy. Still lying flat he said, "Russian! Trained in assassination, interrogation and seduction! And yet, you are working with Americans."

Natasha tilted her head. "Your accent is real."

"Of course it is!" He sat up and held out a hand. "Sherlock Holmes, at your service."

Everyone looked at the Bifrost markings burnt into the cement. "I shall seek out Heimdall," Thor said. He whirled his hammer and flew out through the Iron Man exit. Sherlock pulled a notebook out of his pocket and wrote rapidly.

Steve sighed and lowered his shield. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?"

"Yep," Clint replied as he went over to the nearest coffee machine and started it up. "Good thing Bruce is in the Bahamas."


End file.
